Caine's Reckoning

“Did he work wonders on you, Desi?” Caine asked, still with no inflection in his voice to give her an idea of what he wanted her to say.

“Her name is Desdemona,” James corrected before she could answer.

“The girl spoke clear enough when she introduced herself.”

That came from Sam.

James took a step nearer. The side of Caine’s hand dug into her hip as he adjusted his aim. James stopped midstride. He blinked, then slowly raised his hands and reversed his steps. The fear on his face gave Desi no end of satisfaction.

“Ranger,” the sheriff interjected. “James is the girl’s legal guardian. If you have a problem with that, you’ll need to take it up with the circuit judge next time he comes through.”

The saddle creaked as Caine shifted his weight. “I’m thinking maybe I will.”

“I assure you, Ranger, we’ve only had her best interests in mind.”

“Can’t help it if it strikes my suspicious bone funny when the territories’ crookedest judge gives a pretty young girl to a gambler for caretaking.”

“Can’t argue with the results,” the sheriff pointed out.

“I guess that would depend on which angle you were viewing the results from,” Caine countered.

To her surprise, Caine slid the rifle under her hands, pushing it forward until the smooth stock pressed against the heels of her hands and the hammer caught on her gloves. “You want to weigh in on James’s caretaking, Desi?”

She looked up at him only to find him staring down at her, green eyes serious. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant. “I can shoot him?”

He nodded. “Anywhere you want.”

He had to be joking. She fumbled through the gloves to get her finger around the trigger. However, if there was a chance he was serious, she wasn’t missing out. Hate welled up, spreading outward in a cold, dark wave. Could she do it? Did she have it in her to kill him and to hell with the consequences?

She tilted the gun. It wobbled. Caine steadied it for her as she lifted it and sighted down the barrel at James’s face, savoring the terror in his expression, remembering how it felt that night he’d begun “working wonders” with her. Remembering how helpless she’d felt. So damn sick and afraid. So betrayed.

The sight at the end of the muzzle dropped over his torso. She followed the line of buttons on his vest until she came to the waistband of his fancy black broadcloth pants. From there it was only a matter of two more inches before she reached her destination. There. Right there was where she wanted the first shot to go.

James swore and backed up, stumbling over his own feet. With Caine’s help, she kept the rifle trained as he landed on his butt in the mud. The sheriff grabbed for his revolver, but before he got it clear of his holster, she squeezed the trigger, keeping her eyes on the target, wanting to see the bullet hit. Wanting the satisfaction.

At the last second, the gun tilted down and there was an explosion of mud that sprayed between James’s feet. While she stared, not understanding, Caine removed the gun from her hands.

“Guess that answers my question.”

But it didn’t answer hers. She wanted the gun back in her hands. She wanted one second more. She wanted James dead. She stared at the gloves overwhelming her hands and felt Caine all around her. Another man using her to get what he wanted. “Why did you stop me?”

The quaver in her voice was barely perceptible but Caine heard it. Desi had a belly full of anger and no outlet. He tipped her face up. The pain and rage in her eyes ate at his gut. “I figure you’ve got enough scars, you don’t need the kind killing a man can bring.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

He released her chin and moved the rifle out of her reach, aiming it at the men rushing up from the edge of town. “I would.”

He squeezed with his right knee and Chaser turned into the oncoming crowd. “You best be telling those men to holster their guns, Sheriff, or this town’s going to be short some of its important citizens.”

“You can’t just come in here and start shooting people, Allen.”

“Unless you’re going to stop me,” he told the older man, “I can pretty much do whatever the hell I want.”

And what he wanted right now was justice.

“He’s got a point,” Tracker drawled, a revolver in each hand, his horse tossing its head as the tension built. “We just start shooting up towns whenever we get the urge, eventually someone’s going to slap up a wanted poster with our pictures on it.”

“Not that I particularly mind,” Sam added, his new revolver in one hand and a shotgun in the other. “Hell, we’ve skirted the wrong side of legal all our lives, but you know damn well they aren’t going to do our handsome faces justice on those damn posters and that would pain me.”

“What would you suggest?”

“We should just take the girl and leave.”

Caine pretended to consider the suggestion as the sheriff—as crooked a son of a bitch as Caine had ever seen—settled his weight into his boots with misplaced confidence. “There are ten of us here and only three of you, son. I think you’d better settle down.”

Caine had no intention of settling down. A short, stocky figure in brown robes pushed through the crowd. Caine bumped Desi’s butt with his thigh to get her attention. “Desi, I want you to slide on down now and go stand with Father Gerard.”

He didn’t want her anywhere near him if shooting commenced. He held her wrists as her feet touched the ground, stretching her back, forcing her to look at him. At the base of her throat, where the coat parted, he could see her pulse pounding. She was afraid but game. A woman a man could depend on.

“No running. Not this time.” He held her gaze, trusting Tracker and Sam to guard his back. She finally nodded. “Give me your word.” A flare of surprise crossed her face, and then that chin set and she gave a short nod.

“Good.” He let her go. She limped over to Father Gerard, her steps awkward due to the way he’d tied the moccasins and the cuts on her feet. As soon as she reached the priest, he put his arms around her. She held up her hands. The older man went to work on the knots. Across the small distance her triumph was palpable. Caine nodded, ceding her the small victory. Then he turned back to the gambler. “I’m revoking your guardianship.”

“You can’t do that.” A portly man who shouldn’t have anything to do with the discussion broke in. Immediately, another man shushed him. Both were better dressed than farmers. All confident. None of them should have cared one way or another what happened to one small woman with no family or influence.

I’ll die there.

Desi’s words took on deeper meaning. An ugly suspicion took root as he pulled the puzzle pieces together. Mavis’s unreasonable dislike. The sheriff’s interest. The judge giving her over to the gambler. Father Gerard’s veiled innuendos about circumstances and his request for Caine to watch out for her personally. Son of a bitch. He didn’t like the conclusion he was reaching. He waved the rifle barrel at the fat man. “Who are you?”

The man paled but didn’t back up, obviously under some illusion that Caine would suffer a pang of conscience at plugging him. “Bryan Sanders. Representative of Steel, Jones and Steel.”

“And who are they?” From the cut of the man’s clothes, “they” were well-heeled.

“A group of gentlemen with financial interests in the region.”

“Bankers.” Sam spat. Sam liked bankers about as much as he liked gamblers.

Caine considered himself to be more open-minded, but in this case, he had to agree. He was developing his own dislike for the fat banker. “It must have been real tempting for y’all, having a pretty young woman come through, no family to speak for her, no one to turn to, traumatized by her experiences.”

The women pushed in from the edge of the crowd. One gasped. Another murmured. The banker drew himself to his full height, his jowls jiggling with his outrage. “I don’t think I like your innuendo.”

“Hate to break it to you, but your likes and dislikes aren’t high on my consideration list.”

“What the hell are you getting at, Allen?” James asked, getting to his feet, wiping mud from his pants. “We took her in, saved her from those devils. Gave her a home. Community.”

Chaser stepped sideways as a horse bumped him.

“Priorities, Caine.”

He spared Tracker a glance, who in turn jerked his chin in Desi’s direction. Her face was bleached white as she stood there, dwarfed by his coat and the truth she didn’t want known. Her chin lifted high as her gaze met his, but he got the impression all that was holding her up was that damn pride as the women murmured among themselves, enjoying the scandal he’d begun.

Caine bit back the rage burning in his gut. Tracker was right. First things first. “We’re taking Desi with us and if anyone has anything to say against it—” he levered a bullet into the chamber, letting the fury roll through him in an open challenge “—step up now so we can get the discussing behind us.”

To his surprise it was Father Gerard who stepped forward. “I can’t let you do that, Caine.”

“I don’t rightly see where you can stop me, Padre.” More titters spread through the crowd.

“I cannot let an unmarried woman go off with three men, lawmen or not.”

“Whatever we have planned, it’s better than what’s here.”

The stocky priest shook his nearly bald head. “It can’t be allowed.”

The longer they stood there, the more dutch courage the men were getting and the more trigger-happy fingers were twitching.

“If you take her like this, she’ll still be James’s ward, and still his by law.”

Caine kneed Chaser in a half circle, drawing his revolver. “Any who want to dispute my claim know where to find me.”

“I’m not going with you.”

He wasn’t surprised when Desi’s protest was the only one spoken. There were times when a deadly reputation came in right handy.

“Ten months ago when I saved your life, Caine Allen,” Father Gerard continued in his calm way, “you told me I could ask a favor anytime, and it would be granted.”

“I did.” Caine had an idea where this was heading. The priest’s next words confirmed his suspicions.

“A husband’s rights supersede all others.”

Caine took aim at a young wrangler on the left edge of the crowd. “Don’t do it, son.”

He cut Father Gerard a quick glance. “You don’t call in markers on something like this.”

The priest shrugged, coming closer, letting go of Desi’s hand when she planted her feet. “You’ll have to forgive me. This is my first time.”

If it was the priest’s first time, he’d eat his boot. The cowboy holstered his revolver and held up his hands. Caine backed Chaser up two steps. “I thought it was a sin for priests to lie.”

“And I thought Rangers always kept their promises.”

They did—he did—but as much as he admired Desi’s courage, he wasn’t about to marry her. Although the thought wasn’t as distasteful as it should have been. “Marriage is a forever thing, Padre.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not a forever kind of man.”

“Then perhaps it’s time you changed.”

“Might be too late in the day for that miracle.”

“Are you going back on your promise?”

This time Caine cut a glance at Desi. She was staring at the smiling gambler with resigned horror, sure Caine would go back on his word to the priest and to her. Jesus, he wanted to walk Chaser over there and kick those damn shiny teeth down the gambling bastard’s throat just for looking at her. “No.”

“Without my approval this marriage can’t take place,” the gambler piped up, clearly looking to shorten his life.

A shotgun cocked on Caine’s right. “Then give it.” Sam’s was short and to the point.

He didn’t give his approval, but he shut up, which was all the same to Caine.

Caine clucked his tongue, guiding Chaser to where Desi stood. He holstered the rifle and motioned for her to hold up her hands. He pulled his knife from his boot top and cut through her bonds. “A woman shouldn’t get married with her hands tied.”

“I don’t want to marry.”

Neither did he, but neither of them had much of a choice. Forced by circumstance and honor, there was only one path for both of them. “Would you rather stay here?”

“No.”

“Then we get hitched.”

He waited for the priest to reach them. His robes flapped around his legs in the breeze. He should have looked ridiculous, womanly in the garb, but he didn’t. He looked what he was. A man at peace with his life and the choices he’d made. Caine envied him. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt calm.

Since the day the Mexican army had slaughtered their entire town, shouting “death” as they’d murdered men, women and children alike, he’d been consumed with a rage for justice that wouldn’t let him rest. The same rage flowed over him now as the men he’d mentally marked gathered together, voices rising and falling in an angry cadence, occasionally punctuating their frustration with sharp gestures. His finger ached on the trigger of his revolver. It’d be so easy to take them out. To save everyone the expense of a trial for what they’d done to Desi. So very easy to make them suffer.

“Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.”

Caine didn’t take his eyes off the men, controlling Chaser’s impatient prance with a light touch on the reins. “This time, Padre, the good Lord is going to have to get in line.”

4

Desi huddled deeper into the warmth of her borrowed coat. She pulled the collar up against her cheeks and watched as Caine hunkered down beside the saddlebags and fished something out of the depths. Firelight flicked shadows over his big form, elongating his silhouette into the deeper gloom between the rocks. Making him more than he was, but more distant, too…

“You hungry?”

The question was tossed over his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

He paused. The glance he cast her was knowing. “I seriously doubt that.”

The shame of that burned to her soul. There weren’t words strong enough to cut him down. She lifted her chin and pulled the cold around her, letting it seep into the well that wedged permanently in her soul. “Nevertheless, it’s true.”

He took his big knife out of its sheath. The rasp of metal on leather was loud. He opened the packet on the ground. Firelight caught in the blade and reflected back as he brought it down. He took the food and held it out to her. “It’s not too tasty, but it will fill the hole in your gut.”

She looked at the handful of dried meat, then back up at him. It was going to take a lot more than jerky to fill the hole in her. She let go of the edge of the coat, watching his hands as she reached for the meal. Watching for any sign of meanness. She was hungry, but not hungry enough to be stupid. She stopped halfway there. Caught between hunger and wariness.

Around them there was only darkness. Just she and Caine trapped in this intimate insubstantial circle of light. Tracker and Sam had gone back to town to get her things. She’d told them it wasn’t necessary, but they’d insisted on some notion that a woman needed her things about her. Maybe a woman did, but her things had been stripped from her long ago, and all she had now was her pride, determination and…her husband. Caine’s fingers twitched and she jerked her hand back.

She took a breath, eyes locked on his hand. Beyond that twitch of his fingers, he didn’t move.

“You’d do better to watch my eyes.”

The low, drawled comment was as startling as the twitch of those fingers.

She clutched at the neck of the coat again, watching his hand, her heart beating too fast to breathe right. “What?”

“If you want a heads-up when I’m about to turn ornery, you’d do better to watch my eyes.”

She had to look then. Caine was watching, no expression on his face, no discernible indication of what he was thinking. Just watching her as if she were some sort of puzzle he intended to figure out. She hated the way that made her feel. Helpless, stupid, easy prey. She snatched the food from his hand, almost whimpering with the stress as her fingers touched his, expecting him to grab her wrist as she grabbed the food. He didn’t move, and his hand stayed where it was even after she had tucked her hand back into the shelter of her body. She forced a normal tone. “What good would it do me to watch your eyes when it’s your hand I’m worried about?”

“It’d give you that split-second warning that could make the difference between life and death.” He waved to the food in her hand with the knife before going back to the chunk and cutting off another piece. “Eat.”

Her throat was so dry she didn’t think she could work up the spit to swallow, so she just sat there, huddled by the fire and waited for Caine to turn his attention to something else. She waited in vain. He brought the meat to his mouth and took a bite, revealing strong white teeth and the hint of a smile. He motioned to the food pressed into her middle. “It’s not going to soften up no matter how hard you squeeze it.”

She wasn’t just squeezing the meat, she had a death grip on it. And he was right. It wasn’t softening up. Feeling like a fool, she brought it to her mouth. She took a bite, chewing it. It was tough and grainy and sat like sand in her dry mouth. There was no way she could swallow it. She chewed until her jaws tired, and it still didn’t soften.

Caine turned away. Shadows from the fire stretched like dark flames up over his shoulders, blending into the deeper shadow cast by the brim of his hat. He was a very powerful man. She remembered how he’d held off the town, how comfortable he’d been in enforcing his will. Fighting him over food she needed wasn’t a battle in which she wanted to engage him. She glanced down and chewed more.

A canteen appeared in her line of vision. “This might help.”

She took it carefully, but without the hesitation of before, which made her feel better. She hadn’t become a total coward.

The water was cool and fresh. He must have refilled it before the others left, because not at any point since had she been left alone. The meat softened, and she swallowed. Her stomach rumbled with eagerness as the small bit of food landed. Caine’s laugh hit her pride like a blow.

“Been a long time since I heard anyone’s stomach get excited about jerky.” The humor in his words didn’t linger in his expression. His mouth was set in a straight line and his eyes narrowed. Worse, they were back to studying her in that way that made her throat close. She brought the jerky back to her lap. “I can’t eat with you watching me.”

She expected him to argue or to spit out a “Tough.” She did not expect him, after a brief pause, to hand her his piece of jerky and to turn his attention to the tiny fire. “I don’t want your food.”

“There’s more coming.”

But not for a while. “I can wait.”

“Gypsy, there’s not enough meat on your bones to wait five minutes, let alone an hour.”

Despite the fact she didn’t care what he thought, it stung that he saw her as scrawny. “I’ve always been lean.”

He turned back. “Maybe so, but now you’re in need of fattening up.”

For the slaughter. The phrase cut through her mind. “It’s not your problem.”

“You’re my wife. Everything about you is my problem.”

“We’re not really married.”

She suddenly had his full attention. “Sweetheart, I made a promise to the padre and to God. It doesn’t get more married than that.”

“I meant you don’t have to stay married. You can get rid of me anytime.”

“Really? And here I thought we were hitched for life.”

She gripped the meat so hard, her short nails cut through the tough strings. “They’re not going to let me go.”

“Uh-huh.” He indicated the barely touched meal. “Your stomach will be happier if you eat that rather than play with it.”

“They’ll come after me.”

He took the canteen from her hand and took a swig. She watched his throat work over the edge of the poncho. Watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. Where was his worry? He had to be worried. “James and his friends are not nice people.”

He handed the canteen back to her. When she took it, his hand came up under her chin, tapping the bottom, bringing her gaze up.

“One of these days I want you to tell me how ‘not nice’ they were.”

She shook her head. She would never tell anyone how it was.

He continued as if she hadn’t denied him. “But for now, you just need to know that they are no longer a threat to you.”

She bit her lip. She couldn’t believe that, either. James, Bryan and Carl had enjoyed having her at their disposal too much to just let her be spirited away. And they thought too much of themselves not to take it personally that she had been. Still, Caine had risked his life for her. She owed him at least a warning. “They’ll kill you.”

Unbelievably, he smiled. A genuine smile full of amusement. “They’re welcome to try.”

He didn’t understand. “They won’t be up front about it.”

He dropped his hand from her chin. “Never thought they would be.”

God, he was arrogant. “If you let me go, they’ll leave you alone.”

He picked up a stick and snapped it in two. “If I let you go, you’d have no protection.”

“I could hide.”

“Sweetheart, no matter where you ran, men would find you and you’d be back in bed.”

“I don’t want a man.”

He added small sticks to the tiny fire. “I don’t remember mentioning that you’d be there willingly.”

He fed the fire another stick.

“I won’t be taken again.”

“On that we agree. My wife stays with me.”

He was really stuck on the wife thing. It obviously meant more to him than it did to her.

“I wish you could forget that we married.”

His gaze traveled slowly down her body before taking an equally slow trip back up. She knew she looked like hell, and knew he couldn’t see a thing through the bulky coat, but she still felt like she was standing before him naked, with no secrets and no protection.

“That’s not something I have any interest in forgetting.”

He wanted her sexually. No doubt he relished the fact that she was at his disposal, probably even expected her to just lie back and spread her legs so he could take his pleasure. She glared at him, anger serving as her friend, giving her the strength to say, “I’ll fight you.”

His eyebrow kicked up. “Did you fight them?”

With everything she’d had, which hadn’t amounted to anything in the long run. “Yes.”

His head canted to the side. “Did it do you any good?”

Up until they’d tied her, it had. “No.”

He handed her back the canteen and placed his fingers under the back of her other hand, pushing the food to her mouth. His voice was incredibly gentle when he asked, “Then what makes you think I’m going to be worried about you fighting me?”

Nothing. Nothing at all. She sank her teeth into the meat, gnawing on the realization that what she thought or wanted didn’t matter here any more than it had mattered anywhere else. And with each chew, she was aware of how he watched her. The food coalesced in a hard lump in her mouth. Caine passed her the canteen. She didn’t lift it to her mouth. There was just no way she could swallow anything with his words sashaying through her head. She turned and spat the food into the dirt. His sigh brought her right back around again.

“I can see I’m going to have to change my ways around you if I don’t want you wasting away.”

“You don’t like skinny women?”

“What I like or don’t like is immaterial. I’m married.” He motioned to the food in her hand. “You going to eat that?”

Was he planning on making her? “I couldn’t.”

“Because I made you mad?”

What did he want? A yes? A no? She settled on a shrug.

He took the food from her hand and wrapped it up. It seemed to take him forever to put it away in the saddlebags, though his movements were smooth and efficient. It was just her own sense of time that was off-kilter. A twig snapped in the darkness beyond the small circle of light. Her heart leapt in her throat.